Carl W. Kenney II is an award winning columnist and novelist. He is committed to engaging readers into a meaningful discussion related to matters that impact faith and society. He grapples with pondering the impact faith has on public space while seeking to understand how public space both hinders and enhances the walk of faith.

Thursday, June 20, 2013

The Eulogy of a black man's dream

The film Mumia - Long Distance Revolutionary will be shown at the Hayti Heritage Center on Thursday, June 27 at 5:30 pm. The short film The Manfacturing of Guilt will be shown at 7:45 pm. Join The Rev-elution, Rachel Wolkenstein (a member of Mumia's defense team and legal consultant for The Manufacturing of Guilt), Jamal Hart (Mumia's son), Keith Cook (Mumia's brother) and local activist for a discusion following both films. A donation of $5 will go toward supporting the work at the Hayti Heritage Center.This essay reflects on the underlying emotions associated with the incarceration of Mumia Abu-JamalI stepped on the bus draped in black.I was wearing my death clothes.

Three deaths in one week – two men who mentored me
into manhood and a cousin who was more like a sister.My head remained bowed to hide the tears as
bus 9B left the downtown terminal.The
sense of doom filled the air as I struggled to find room for my legs in a seat
intended for someone much shorter.

My black Perry Ellis suit, black English Landry shirt
and black Kenneth Cole shoes stood in contrast of the attire of the others on
the bus.Hidden beneath my garments was
the soul of a hurting man.The cloud
over my head served as a warning that a thunderstorm of tears could come at any
moment – like a flashflood.

The bus turned right onto Pettigrew Street. 400 yards
later we stopped at that intersection – the one that exposes the best of Durham
and the worst of Durham. I gazed at the Durham Performing Arts Center.Thoughts of past dates flickered in my mind
like a movie trailer. I remembered dancing with the group Brick and feeling
something deep when Chaka Khan took off her shoes.

A quick moment away from the pending inner rain was
shaken by the building across the street.It reminded me of dismay.It
forced me to contemplate the deep misery begging to break free. The image of
black faces hardened by disappointment took center stage.

The county jail.

Thoughts of mentors now dead.Thoughts of close calls avoided for reasons I
will never understand. Thoughts of old games played while pretending to be
tough.Thoughts of black men playing
games in a world consumed with making the jail their home.

Could have been me.

Deeper thoughts now.I wonder how many don’t belong there.How may didn’t commit the crimes? How many are assumed guilty until
proven innocent?

Welcome to the black man’s world.

The jail is the abode for those presumed guilty
despite the evidence. The proof of guilt is race.All of them are that way.All of them.Put him away.

The sound of steel bars slamming in my face.Guilty.Guilty of being a black man in America.

No, that can’t be true.What about the American Dream?What about the lessons I learned from my
mentors?Was it for nothing? What happens when a black man fights for
freedom in a way that counters the interest of the protectors of the white
American Dream?

Are you discounted for sharing frustration?Are you censured for refusing to walk the
line of mainline suitability? What happens to those who decry injustice and demand
to be heard? What profit is there for those pleading for space in a room
controlled by a divergent view?

What happens when you scream for justice?

Do they lock you up? Do they deny you work until you assimilate
within a larger culture that defines merit by class?

What happens if you scream?

My mentors taught me to survive based on the
assumption that education would level the playing field. They weren’t prepared
for this.They underestimated the
hostility among some that keeps a foot on black men’s necks. Too many can’t
feel the rage that traps black men in a cycle leading to escalating dysfunction.

They say black men are making excuses. It’s their
fault.

I call it death.What else could it be? Black men watch as others pass them by. They
watch as others reap benefits denied them for reasons hard to understand.They fight to be seen and heard.They play the game until they discover a set of
different rules.

Go to jail.That’s where you belong.

Madness everywhere you look. Don’t speak. Fit in.
Pretend you are just like me. Don’t complain. It’s your fault.No one is to blame but you.

Pray more. Go to church.Strip yourself of all that pride.Get over the truth of a racist history.Others have made it.Why can’t you?

The bus turns left onto Roxboro Street. Glasses in my
hand in wait of the tears.

“Mumia Abu-Jamal, they locked you up for telling the
truth,” whispers. “They fight against your freedom to deny efforts to keep us
back.”

Eyes closed harder now. Head hurting to fight the
pain.

“Release us from the pain associated with proving we
belong,” more whispers. “Create a place that grants us the freedom to be.”

The jail is behind me now.We turned right onto Dowd Street, one of
Durham’s inner city havens of blues.Black men crammed the bus headed to the recycling of pain.Another day of disappointment.No plan of escape.

Trapped.

We lay to rest the lives of those who believed in
better days. They leave behind countless failures.Their work is left to those who made it to
the river.

They’re still waiting for the parting of the river to
pave way for the crossing to the other side.

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Carl W. Kenney II

Carl was named the best serious columnist of 2011 by the North Carolina Press Association for his work with the News & Observer's community paper The Durham News and in 2016 by the Missouri Press Association for his columns in the Columbia Missourian. He is a columnist with the News & Observer and Co-Executive Producer of "God of the Oppressed" an upcoming documentary film on black liberation theology. He is a former Adjunct Professor at the University of Missouri - School of Journalism and Adjunct Instructor at Duke University, the Center for Documentary Studies. He received his Bachelor’s degree in Journalism from the University of Missouri-Columbia. He furthered his education at Duke University and attained a Master of Divinity. He was named a Fellow in Pastoral Leadership Development at the Princeton Theological Seminary on May 14, 2005. He is a freelance writer with his commentary appearing in The Washington Post, Religious News Services,The Independent Weekly and The Durham Herald-Sun. Carl is the author of two novels: “Preacha’ Man” and the sequel “Backslide”.
He has led congregations in Missouri and North Carolina